


Sometimes something like fate exists

by mikhailosbitch



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2017, M/M, Post Season 7, the reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikhailosbitch/pseuds/mikhailosbitch
Summary: Ian is standing in the kitchen, stuffing his mouth with a cheese sandwich when he hears it.Fiona is on the couch watching the news, eating left-over pizza, the volume low enough for Liam to sleep with his head on her lap but just so loud that Ian can listen.They’re the only ones in the house tonight, Lip is at college, Carl at military school, Debbie moved out and Frank’s at the Alibi so it’s only Fiona who’s there when his world shatters.





	Sometimes something like fate exists

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, here comes my fic for Gallavich Week B 2017 - Day 3 "The Reunion".  
> Usually I care a lot about how realistic a story is but this time I don’t, just so you know :)
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language.

Ian is standing in the kitchen, stuffing his mouth with a cheese sandwich when he hears it.

Fiona is on the couch watching the news, eating left-over pizza, the volume low enough for Liam to sleep with his head on her lap but just so loud that Ian can listen.

They’re the only ones in the house tonight, Lip is at college, Carl at military school, Debbie moved out and Frank’s at the Alibi so it’s only Fiona who’s there when his world shatters.

_‘During a shooting in Mérida between rivaling gangs in Yucatán yesterday night three people were killed. Two of the victims were Mexicans, according to the local police one from each of the gangs. The third victim was from the United States. It could be identified as the fugitive Mikhailo Milkovich, a convict from Chicago who was sentenced for Attempted murder and escaped USP Terre Haute, Indiana  in October 2016.’_ the news anchor says.

 

Fiona has stopped eating. Out of the corners of his eyes Ian can see her staring at the TV, half a slice of pizza in her hand, her body completely frozen.

And then she looks up, looks at him standing there in the kitchen in his sweats and an old black shirt with the sleeves cut off. The rest of the sandwich he’s still holding gets squashed by his fingers curling into fists as he throws up on the floor.

Hot bile rises in his throat, again and again, acid burning the insides of his mouth as he keeps puking his guts out, his vision getting blurry with tears filling his eyes at the burning steams of his vomit.

Suddenly he feels a cool hand on his forehead, gently tugging his head up and Fiona leads him to the sink where he continues retching until there’s nothing left.

 

He watches the contents of his stomach disappear into the drain as Fiona turns the faucet on and washes them away.

“Ian” she says, voice small and scared and then she stops.

 

The next ten minutes pass in a blur. Fiona cleans up the mess he made on the floor and Ian sits at the table, drinking the glass of water his sister gave him and then stares at the few remaining drops at the bottom when it is empty.

 

*

 

Ian doesn’t look at her when she steps closer. His gaze is focused on the glass in his hand. She doesn’t know what to do.

Her instincts scream _Psych ward_ and _Call Lip_ and _Hug him_ and _Suicide Watch_ all at the same time but she can’t move, can’t bring herself to call anyone or even touch her little brother because if she did any of that he would crumble, right here and now, that much she is sure of.

 

Mickey is dead.

 

Shot by some gang member in Mexico and Ian is alive and here in Chicago and she can’t help thinking how _fucking_ glad she is that Ian is indeed here in this kitchen. That she talked to him that night last year, on the green old couch where Liam is still sleeping.

 

Somehow she finds the strength to shuffle through the chaos on the kitchen counter, eyes shooting up every couple seconds, checking if Ian is still sitting at the table, breathing. She lets out a shuddery sigh when she finally pulls out her phone from under her purse, shaking fingers type in Lip’s number.

 

*

 

“What’s up, Fi?” Lip asks, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder while wiping spilled coke from the table at the college cafeteria.

It’s almost eleven and completely dark outside, hopefully his sister doesn’t need him to babysit Liam. But Ian isn’t working, is he?

“Uhm, Lip” Fiona says at the other end of the line. She sounds like she’s about to cry, breathing heavily and her voice shaky.

“Yeah? What’s going on? Are you okay?!” He’s getting worried.

“Not sure” his sister says and sighs deeply, “Ian needs you.”

And that’s all Lip needs. “I’m on my way” he says before he ends the call.

He isn’t finished cleaning up but he couldn’t care less right now so he leaves and runs to the L, takes three steps at a time and catches the train right before it’s too late.

 

The house is quiet when he arrives, no police cars or firemen running around like that time when Monica wanted to jump off the roof and Lip’s heart calms down a tiny bit.

He enters through the front door and finds Liam lying on the couch. Ian is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at nothing in particular, Fiona standing by the counter looking at her phone. When she sees him she quickly heads into the living room, waving the phone in her hand.

She looks shocked, stressed, relieved. Overwhelmed.

“What the hell happened?”

She just shoves the phone in his hand, eyes big and beyond worried.

 

The screen shows an article by CNN. Lip reads it. Doesn’t get to through the whole report, just to the name. Gaze hung up on _Milkovich_.

“I don’t know what to do” Fiona whispers, she’s still standing next to him, fingers balled up into fists. “What if he?-“

Point is, he hasn’t. Not yet. Ian is still sitting there all calm and quiet and he hasn’t lost it yet.

 

Lip spends two hours sitting next to his little brother, talking into the empty silence between them. Meaningless words. Fiona puts Liam to bed and paces around, checks Ian’s pill bottles and goes upstairs when Lip tells her so, until Ian moves.

They go into their old room but Ian barely makes his to his bed where he slumps on the mattress, hunched up shoulders and Lip doesn’t force him to brush his teeth, just lets him sit there and crawls into his own old bed.

Fiona has taken Liam in her room so it’s just them and Lip stays awake, watching Ian the whole night.

 

*

 

The following days are a haze. Ian doesn’t really notice anything except for the fact that either Lip or Fiona is constantly watching him and he feels like at some point he had and appointment with his doctor.

 

\---

At 2:07am Lip falls asleep in his bunk bed and Ian slips out the window into the night. He’s only wearing a thin shirt and a hoodie but the biting cold feels good.

Makes him feel _something_.

 

Ian doesn’t pay attention to where he goes, lets his feet take over and still isn’t surprised at all when he finds himself under the familiar racks of the high school bleachers.

Wishing he had some vodka here, no, a bottle of Jack, he sits down on the adamant ground and leans against the cold metal of the stilt behind him.

 

His head is empty. Completely empty, more than when he was on his meds for the first time, he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

And it sucks even though Ian knows the other option would be worse.

 

 

According to his phone it’s 4:37 when Lip and Fiona find him.

At first he doesn’t see them, just hears steps coming, and he closes his eyes and for the split of a second he allows himself to hope. That the person emerging from the dark any moment now is someone else.

 

He opens his eyes.

Closes them.

 

He’s hallucinating.

 

Ian is hallucinating because Mickey is standing there, right where he stood a year ago.

 

He opens his eyes again and Mickey’s still there, just looking at him. Barely visible in the darkness.

And against his better judgement Ian moves. Gets up and moves, stumbles closer and knows he’s going to find nothing but cold air when he reaches Mickey but then he’s there and slings his arms around him and he feels solid shoulders and strong arms wrapping around his torso.

 

And then Ian finally loses it.

 

“You motherfucker” he gasps, face buried somewhere between Mickey’s neck and shoulder. “Goddamn piece of shit!”

He’s sobbing by now, spreading his snot all over Mickey’s collar and digging his fingers into Mickey’s back to be sure this is _real_.

 

“I missed you to, Ian” Mickey says into Ian’s hair and the fucker actually has the guts to have a chuckle in his voice and the next thing Ian knows is that they are kissing.

_Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich was arrested by the Mexican police in September 2017. After finding out he was a wanted fugitive he was about to be transferred to a maximum security level prison in the United States when 24-year old, ambitious detective Rodriguez asked him if he knew anything about the Juarez gang, a new drug cartel in the outskirts of Mérida._

_As unlikely as that sounds, Mickey had had an honest job in his new found home and worked as a bartender._

_But sometimes something like fate exists._

_Because Mickey had indeed heard of that. During a late night walk through empty streets he had seen and heard an encounter of a few members of Juarez’ crew. No one had noticed him and Mickey didn’t really think about it much up until Rodriguez asked._

_He made a deal. The Mexican police, the FBI and him made a deal. Escaping prison against a piss poor excuse of a trial for something he didn’t do and some information about a few dealers._

_They had decided to fake his death just to be sure nobody of Juarez’s soldiers would come looking for him and because the Bureau of Justice of the States would have gotten in trouble big time if the truth about Mickey’s conviction had come out._

_So yeah, he was officially dead, but very alive at home._

_It took a little longer to make his way to Chicago than expected and by the time he got there the news about his ‘death’ had already been spilled which he had tried to avoid. He had wanted to get Ian a heads up._

_Even though he had been pissed as hell, but any last bit of that is forgotten now because they’re at their spot._

_Together._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any kind of feedback is very very much appreciated.


End file.
